


Going Up (The One About Ghosts)

by Moorishflower



Series: The Elevator 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-14
Updated: 2010-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is going through intense therapy for his claustrophobia, his next door neighbor is a ghost, and his brother has a serious Nabokov-style crush on him. Things still find a way to get weirder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Up (The One About Ghosts)

  
"Just breathe," Sam says, and Sam is Dean's brother, his little brother sure, but his by blood, and so he should pay attention to him because Sam always has Dean's best interests in mind. And they're totally ignoring the weirdness that is their lives: the part where a week ago he had walked in on his baby brother in the bathroom with his cock in his hand and Dean's name on his lips, and also the part where Dean is the crazy older brother who _talks to dead people_.

_It will be alright, Dean,_ Cas says next to him - right now he's a cold patch, a place where heat seems to get sucked in and then redistributed as the weird, crackling energy that makes up Castiel's...whatever passes for his body. His _ectoplasm_ or something, Jesus.

Dean makes a noise, a helpless and useless sort of noise at the back of his throat. Elevators. Of course. He and Sam had taken the elevator, because Dean's back was aching after helping Sam move the last of his shit into the apartment, and Sam had made some stupid joke about carrying him up the stairs even though he was just as tired and aching as Dean was, and Dean had just...it wasn't like he could live the rest of his life in fear of elevators and closets and anything smaller than his living room. And Doctor Kripke had said that the therapy _was_ helping. A little bit at a time, yeah, but it was...Dean was making _progress_. And he only lived on the third floor - they wouldn't be in the elevator for long.

Except for the part where the elevator _broke the fuck down_, and now he's trapped between the second and third floor in a tiny elevator car with his possibly-hot-for-him brother and a ghost. The ghost, unfortunately, has not responded to any therapy - Dean is kind of okay with that. Castiel is a little awkward and a little creepy sometimes, but he means well. Dean mostly feels bad for him, because no one has bought the apartment where he was murdered, and it probably gets lonely, when Dean isn't around.

"Dean," Sam says, and he realizes that he's starting to hyperventilate. A problem that is quickly and efficiently solved when Sam _kisses_ him, and Dean stops breathing entirely. Sam's mouth is - and yeah, Dean knows he's having a tough time, what with Jessica dumping him, but that was months ago, and Dean is pretty sure that you aren't supposed to mend a broken heart with incest. But it's so hard to look at this thing, this thing that's _always_ been between them, and say 'This isn't right, this shouldn't happen.' Because it's always been there. Always.

_Death grants a certain perspective,_ Castiel says. _It is not as though you are harming anyone._

Of course it's the dead guy who's encouraging them to make out. Is it called something different when the guy is a ghost and not actually a dead body? Paranormophilia? Jesus, he has no idea. It isn't like he Googles this shit in his spare time. But he can feel his breathing returning to normal - the stress of being in the elevator, of the walls threatening to close in on him, is trumped by the stress of making out with his brother. Because they are. They are so totally making out it isn't even funny.

"Sammy," he breathes, and Sam leans back, the barest hint of suction and teeth pulling at Dean's bottom lip...And then... "Jesus fuck, _Cas_!"

_I thought you would enjoy the stimulus._

Sam's brow furrows. "Cas? Who's...Oh. Um. The, uh..."

"We've discussed this," Dean grits out. It's directed at both of them, but mostly at Castiel, who's got one ghostly hand (or tendril of being or _whatever_) curled around his dick, and that right there makes it kind of hard to talk. Sam opens and closes his mouth for a few seconds, and Castiel doesn't move his hand, and it's sort of like...like being dipped in warm water. Warm water with a very slight electrical current running through it, and somehow Dean isn't getting electrocuted. It's soft and nice and Dean _likes_ it, and his dick seems to wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment.

"Dude," Sam says, after a long moment. "You're not...you're not _retreating into a fantasy_, are you?"

"What? No."

"Because I know this is weird, this is beyond weird, and if you need time to...to deal, if you need me to leave..."

Castiel's hand leaves his crotch, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Except not even ten seconds go by before Sam is making a high-startled noise, and then clutching at his ass as he falls forward. Conveniently, this places him in Dean's lap.

"Did you pinch me," Sam says, but there's something in his voice that suggests he knows that Dean's arms aren't four feet long. Dean closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing, and the elevator...shudders. And then begins to move.

"No," he says, just for good measure. Sam awkwardly picks himself up, and helps Dean to stand...but not, he notes, before he manages to brush the back of his palm against Dean's groin. And he might be freaking out about this, a little, but that is _so freaking Sam_.

"So," Sam says cheerily. "This, uh. This ghost of yours. Is he hot?"

Dean purses his lips, and the elevator doors _woosh_ open. He steps out into the far larger hallway and resists the urge to drop to his knees and kiss the ground. "He's _dead_."

"Yeah, but, Romero-dead or Swayze-dead?"

_I never liked that movie,_ Castiel says. _Although it's factually accurate._

"Jesus Christ," Dean says, and fumbles for the keys to his apartment.


End file.
